


Twenty Pounds

by unfortunate17



Series: Paper Hearts/Twenty Pounds [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: in which Zayn tries to hold on to Liam when all he’s been taught is to do is let go.<br/>...................<br/>“How do you want me?” Liam’s voice is quiet in the silence of the motel room and Zayn takes a deep inhale of the lingering smoke in an effort to get his heartbeat under control.</p><p>He gestures and Liam comes easily, stopping to stand in front of him, eyes wide. And Zayn really, really, fucking hates the way Liam looks at him like he’s in awe of everything Zayn is. Because there’s nothing really there.<br/>...................</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Pounds

**Author's Note:**

> !!!!!!!!!PLEASE READ!!!!!!!!!
> 
> "PAPER HEARTS" is the first segment of this story - please, please, please read that first or this one will be a spoiler. It also won't make any sense.

 

**Companion Piece to "Paper Hearts" (which HAS to be read FIRST)**

**……………………….**

“Well, what’d you say, Zayn? Up for it?”

Zayn grinds his cigarette butt under his toe and tosses his head back to look at the deserted school building. “Dunno, mate,” he says uneasily, “seems a bit - extreme, yeah?”

Danny laughs loudly and the rest of the boys follow suit, “Going soft on Payne?”

Zayn clenches his teeth, “Not what I meant. Just. Why does it matter - who cares what the fucker does, Danny?”

“Why does it matter to  _you_?” Ant nudges him, “You’ll get a fuck and twenty pounds - that is, unless you think you can’t do it.”

Zayn pulls anther cigarette, stomach clenching uncomfortably, but looking into the boys’ hard eyes he knows there’s really know way around this. It’s not so much that he’s afraid of hurting Liam or wants to be a good person - but this seems almost unnecessarily cruel. Even for him. Except maybe this might be good for him after all.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice barely audible, “I’ll do it.”

The boys cackle loudly in response and Zayn winces at the sound, grating over his eardrums, and mutters a hasty goodbye, lopping his way down the sidewalk. He’s going straight home, that was for sure.

“Take pictures,” Ant snorts loudly from behind and everybody breaks into raucous laughter again.

Zayn takes a deep breathe and tries to breathe. 

……………………….

The next day, he manages to catch Liam outside of Creative Writing - and he’s honestly just glad that the term was coming to an end because he doesn’t know if he’ll really be able to face him again once everything blew over.

“Hey.”

Liam’s attention snaps to him in a heartbeat and Zayn can see his eyes widening. It would honestly be comical if it wasn’t so sad. He clenches his fists in response, trying desperately to avoid his craving to bite his knuckles from nerves.

“Do you want to see that film? The new superhero one? With me?” His voice is breathless and Zayn watches as something akin to devastation seeps under Liam’s skin. He feels sick.

But Liam stays quiet - mouth trembling and pulled down at the corners. Zayn can see his shoulders hunching together, small and afraid in self-defense and Zayn wants to bolt. To run and never come back because it’s one thing to throw hurtful words at someone, give them a sandwich with worms in Primary School - but to take Liam’s virginity for money?

Yet, at the same time, as much Zayn actually doesn’t want to do it - there’s a part of him that does. Because deep down, cowered away in fear, is the little part of him that knows that he would have turned out just like Liam if it wasn’t for his blind following of Ant and Danny. It wasn’t the best policy in the world, but Zayn at least has someone to turn to if he needs notes, company, cigarettes, or food.

He swallows back the knot in his throat, “Come on, Li. It’ll be fun, yeah,” he averts his eyes, staring at the plain, tiled floor of the hallway, “But only if you want to.” The worst is, Zayn knows that he’s only thrown in that last part because it’d sound better. He knows Liam won’t refuse him. Anybody would be blind not to notice the way Liam looked at him  - and honestly, sometimes Zayn just wonders _why._

“Yes,” Liam replies hoarsely, and he looks broken.

If Zayn didn’t know any better - he’d have thought that Liam already knew.

……………………….

Zayn spends the large majority of the film with his arm around Liam’s shoulders, blanketing him in warmth and desperately trying to ignore the way Liam feels like nothing more than a bag of bones under his fingers.

He has half a mind to fuck all and just go home when the text lights his screen in the darkness of the theatre.

_Teach the bitch, yeah, Zayn? We want to hear all about it._

He swallows, stuffs the phone in his jacket pocket, replaces his arm around Liam’s shoulder, and resolves to just get this over with.

……………………….

“How do you want me?” Liam’s voice is quiet in the silence of the motel room and Zayn takes a deep inhale of the lingering smoke in an effort to get his heartbeat under control.

He gestures and Liam comes easily, stopping to stand in front of him, eyes wide. And Zayn really, really, fucking hates the way Liam looks at him like he’s in awe of everything Zayn is. Because there’s nothing really there.

Yes, Zayn remember being six years old and photographed for his local, clothing catalogue. But nothing he’s done matches up with how beautiful he apparently is. Zayn wonders if Liam can see that - if Liam can see  _him_.

Instead, he rubs his thumbs along Liam’s too-prominent cheekbones and forces a smile, “What do you like?”

Liam shakes his head, cheeks heating, “ _Anything_  - whatever youwant.”

Zayn chokes but recovers with a swift kiss. Liam’s mouth his hot and wet and he tastes like honey and hints of sadness under it. Melancholy and sweetness that drugs Zayn’s brain with little neurons of guilt and hate.

Zayn pulls away sharply, almost in horror, resting his head on Liam’s collarbone, which is frighteningly visible through his shirt. And Zayn knows - he fucking knows that he’s pretty much destroying somebody now. And he does think it’s wrong - he really, really does.

But.

Except.

You see, Zayn has always been smart - sometimes too smart for his own good. He remembers - knows even - how his mum and dad used to parade him around in parties so people would stop by and coo at him or tell him how beautiful he was. And Zayn is just so tired - so fucking tired of the superficiality and people looking straight through him and assuming things and just. He wants  _out_. And maybe if he broke something as precious as Liam - he’ll find a way out. Maybe people will see him and not his skin and cheekbones.

The weird thing is, Zayn knows he should be thankful - should be ecstatic even that he’s good looking because so many people in this world want to be just that. Be perfection. He wonders if they know what it feels like to be used.

Maybe their rich, socialite parents won’t look through them. Maybe they’ll look  _at_ them. Maybe they won’t love them like they love fast cars and shooting stars. Maybe they’ll love them  _as_  their sons and daughters.

Zayn wonders if the world knows what an ugly person he is.

“Zayn?” And Liam’s so good isn’t he? So, so good.

He lifts his head and looks directly at Liam -  _seeing_  Liam and shakes his head. “Come here.” He pulls Liam’s sweatshirt off and tries not to look at his scarred wrists or notice the way Liam curls into himself in embarrassment.

“I. I just. They’re not,” Liam stammers helplessly and Zayn releases a rush of air through his nose.

“Don’t. Care.”

Liam falls silent and runs a hand through over his inked skin in near reverence. His eyes catch Zayn’s and there’s an unknown emotion in them, brimming over as he reaches down to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Ok,” he mumbles into his skin. His eyes flit to his again, “Whatever you want Zayn.”

And Zayn doesn’t really remember anything after that. Of course there’s skin and teeth and lips and hands but he’s lost almost, trying to desperately ground himself in the deed he’s committing, in the boy he’s literally fucking over.

He figures the least he can do is let Liam stay the night so he pulls the boy back when he goes to dress - because again, Zayn really suspects that Liam knows that something is up. And Liam curls into him under the covers and Zayn reaches his trembling fingers out for a cigarette, lighting it to clear his head.

Liam hums softly and Zayn’s heart stutters.

“Had fun?” he whispers quietly.

Liam nods into his chest.

Zayn wraps his arms tighter around Liam’s shaking frame, “Good.”

……………………….

Liam finds out.

(Though Zayn secretly, still suspects he always knew and was just hoping otherwise).

Zayn supposes it doesn’t take a genius to do so as Ant and Danny make a big show of handing Zayn twenty pounds in the locker room as rumors begin to spread like wildfire. He watches as Liam bows his head like always and stays silent. He takes it all - eyes in a constant state of wetness and devastation.

Zayn wants that look  _off_ of his face.

That night, Zayn can’t sleep. Because no matter what - he knows it was wrong. But he doesn’t know how he could have ever refused.

The twenty-pound note burns in his hands when he picks it up and he crumples it, just tossing it into the rubbish bin, when his cell goes off.

He picks it up one handed, eyes catching his reflection in the mirror, “Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“You’re beautiful.”

That’s definitely Liam’s voice and he sounds desperately broken. Zayn doesn’t know what to do.

Instead, he finds himself blinking back tears, “Yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ , Did anyone ever tell you that? You’re lovely. Stunning even.” 

Zayn takes a shuddering breath. “No,” he whispers and it’s not a lie. Not really - because nobody’s ever told him he was beautiful and sounded like Liam. Not even his mum. He doesn’t think anyone’s meant it like Liam has just said it.

“Liam - I.” And he knows where he’s going with this. He really does, but he just can’t get the words out. They’re caught somewhere between  _I’ll make this right Li._ and  _I’m sorry, so sorry._ and  _I think you might be too._

But before he can say anything, Liam’s talking again.

“I hope you find someone that does tell you that - everyday. And I hope you don’t forget it the way I did - because it’s hard to remember Zayn. It’s so, so hard.”

There’s a dangerous sound of steel hitting the floor and Zayn’s blood runs cold. “Liam,”  _fuck, fuck, fuck,_  “What’re you saying?” He stumbles out of his room in terror, but he doesn’t know where he’s going. Nobody’s home anyway. Zayn wants to shout.

“Goodbye.”

There’s a scary note of finality in his voice and Zayn’s opening his front door without really a destination in mind. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen. _This wasn’t supposed to happen._

“Liam fuck - Li  _wait_  yeah.” Zayn’s voice is loud, hoarse, and panicked, “It’s not. Just give me some time. Those guys are assholes, yeah, and I was fucking stupid - Liam. Just. Let me fix this - because I  _will_  fix it, Li.”

.

.

.

There’s no response.

.

.

.

……………………….

**Author's Note:**

> Ok - so there were parallels there. Basically Liam places Zayn on this pedestal of perfection that Zayn’s actually experienced all his life. It’s hinted that he did modeling and was basically his parent’s poster child - and he resents it because it makes him almost less human in his eyes. And doing that to Liam, he thinks, will illicit the response in other people to take him off this pedestal that he doesn’t think is even real. He wants to be his own person but is basically stifled by society so he rebels - in an awful, awful, hurtful way.
> 
> I feel like this was so sad mostly because Liam idealizes Zayn for something that doesn’t exist.


End file.
